


Everyone Hates His Parents

by impalaloompa



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:42:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: It was starting to get late. Who on earth would be calling them at this time?“It’s for you,” he said, a frown knitting his brow, “A man, saying that he is your father?”Whizzer stiffened. Face blank, eyes stony. This sudden change gave Marvin a strange feeling twisting his gut.Whizzer had never talked about his parents. Not once in all the time they had been together.





	1. Chapter 1

The apartment was warm, scents of dinner still lingering in the air.

They were curled up on the couch, Whizzer’s head on Marvin’s chest as an old movie flickered on the tv screen.

Though, Marvin couldn’t tell you what it was about. He was too busy watching Whizzer. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath. The way his eyes fluttered in sleepy contentment. The way his long fingers spread out on his stomach, creating lines in his shirt. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at something happening on the screen.

Marvin savoured every moment he could to just look at Whizzer. Drink him in. Watch him be. There was something so peaceful in those moments, something so serene about just being with him, and he still couldn’t believe how lucky he was that Whizzer was his. How incredible it was to love this man and to have his love in return.

Whizzer shifted slightly and traced a fingertip up and down Marvin’s chest. Marvin wove his fingers with Whizzer’s and gave them a squeeze. Always a silent promise to never let go. Not again.

Whizzer let out a big sigh and smiled into Marvin’s shirt. These were the moments he loved the most. To be held by the man he loved. Safe, and happy, and home.

Marvin carded his fingers through Whizzer’s hair and Whizzer hummed sleepily.

“Bed?” Marvin suggested, brushing a thick lock of hair behind Whizzer’s ear.

“But movie,” Whizzer half protested.

“Come on,” Marvin pressed a soft kiss to Whizzer’s temple.

Whizzer grumbled but sat up and quirked him a smile.

“Fine,” he said, “But you owe me pancakes in the morning.”

Marvin nodded as Whizzer turned off the tv.  
The pair moved through to their bedroom, the younger shirking off his shirt while the elder turned off the main lights.

The bedside lamp washed the room in a pale yellow, enough light to see by as Whizzer scrambled into bed to watch Marvin undress.

“Marv?” Whizzer piped up after a moment of admiration.

“Whiz?” Marvin slipped into bed beside him.

“I’ve been thinking. What with Jason’s Bar Mitzvah coming up soon, well, we could take him suit shopping. Pick out a really nice one,” Whizzer played with the sheets.

“No, you’re asking ME permission for YOU to take Jason out suit shopping,” Marvin grinned at him.

“Okay, yes,” Whizzer admitted, bouncing on the mattress slightly, “I want to take him suit shopping.”

Marvin’s lip twitched in a smirk and when blue eyes met brown, he found himself completely drawn in to Whizzer’s bright expression.

“I’ll see if Trina had anything planned for what he’s wearing but yes, you can take him out when he’s over this weekend.”

Whizzer beamed and wriggled himself under the covers. Marvin was about to join him when the phone rang.

It was starting to get late. Who on earth would be calling them at this time?

He exchanged a look with Whizzer before hauling himself back off the bed and going through to the living room to answer the phone.

Whizzer strained to hear the muffled conversation. Then Marvin appeared at the door.

“It’s for you,” he said, a frown knitting his brow, “A man, saying that he is your father?”

Whizzer stiffened. Face blank, eyes stony. This sudden change gave Marvin a strange feeling twisting his gut.

Whizzer had never talked about his parents. Not once in all the time they had been together. 

“Whizzer?” Marvin took a step closer and his movement seemed to snap Whizzer out of the trance he had fallen under.

He rose quietly from the bed and as he passed Marvin to answer the phone, Marvin tried to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but Whizzer ducked his contact.

That twisting in his gut became more of a lurch. Something was wrong here, he hadn’t seen Whizzer like this since the night he told him to pack his bags.

That memory still haunted him and he knew it still played with Whizzer too. He tried very hard to not raise his voice anymore because the flinch and look Whizzer would get in his eyes broke his heart.

Of course he had apologised profoundly for what he did, but no amount of apologising would ever completely remove the memory and hurt of that night.

And now, Whizzer was hurting again and Marvin had no clue on how to go about talking to him about it. He had always fallen short when trying to help Trina through pain and sorrow but he would be darned if he made the same mistake with Whizzer.

He started when Whizzer re-entered the room, expression unreadable. 

“Whiz? Everything okay?” he tried.

“Uh,” Whizzer avoided his gaze, “I…I uh.”

“Whizzer?” Marvin stepped forward, concern now panging in his heart.

“My Dad… and Mom, they’re in town and um, I’m going to go have lunch with them tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Marvin tried a smile.

Whizzer finally met his eyes and his smile flickered and died as soon as it was forced. He cleared his throat, visibly fighting the tears that were brimming his eyes.

“Honey?” Marvin rushed to him and guided him back to the bed. They sunk down together, Whizzer wrapped in a tight embrace, breath hitching in his chest as he forced himself not to cry.

“Talk to me Whiz. Talk to me,” Marvin stroked Whizzer’s hair soothingly.

There was a period of silence where neither man said anything. Marvin giving Whizzer all the time he needed, and Whizzer building up the courage to talk about something he had never spoken of to anyone. 

“I knew,” Whizzer began, “From a very early age that I was different, from-from the other boys. They were all talking about kissing girls and chasing girls and I was wondering what it would feel like to hold Michael Garden’s hand.”

Whizzer’s sheepish smile brought a bubble of laugher into Marvin’s chest.

Whizzer sat up so he could look at Marvin directly and Marvin felt his heart clench with pride for his boyfriend.

“I was different and it didn’t take long for my parents to notice it too,” Whizzer swallowed hard, “My Mom’s Jewish, Dad’s Catholic. They had my life all planned out for me. Get a job, get a girl, get married, have kids. The whole white picket fence deal. But that’s not what I wanted. I wanted boys. 

Of course, this didn’t go down well, especially with my father. I…I didn’t mean to come out to them, it was an accident when I told them, a slip, a brain malfunction or something, I don’t know. All I know is one minute they were lecturing me about why I hadn’t brought a girl home yet and the next, they were screaming at me for being who I am.”

Whizzer dampened his dry lips with his tongue and Marvin took his hands. Whizzer let himself look at their entwined fingers for a moment before continuing.  
“He couldn’t have his only child being a disgrace to the family so he had me meet several times a week with the family Priest. When that didn’t work, he forced me into therapy. When that didn’t work…” Whizzer screwed his eyes shut, “He decided to beat it out of me.” 

Marvin felt himself go taught and he was sure he was squeezing Whizzer’s hands too hard.

“To say I was scared of my own father is a… an understatement. But it was my mother who scared me the most because she just let it happen and watched. Watched as I begged her to make him stop,” Whizzer’s voice broke and a tear rolled down his cheek. 

Marvin brushed it away with the pad of his thumb but it was quickly replaced by another.

“I tried very hard to be what they wanted. I even took a girl to the spring dance but…” Whizzer’s eyes were closed again, lost in the painful memories, “When I was sixteen they kicked me out. Packed my bags and threw me to the curb. ‘No son of mine will be a filthy faggot,’ he said, ‘No fucking queers under my roof,’ he said.”

A new realisation came crushing down on Marvin as he watched his lover recount his past. He had kicked Whizzer out too. Kicked him out an left him with nothing, left him to fend for himself. It was no wonder Whizzer had struggled to forgive him.

“Whiz, I’m so sorry,” he choked, “So sorry.”

Whizzer seemed to understand that his apology was more that just sympathy and he rubbed circles into the rough skin of Marvin’s hand.

“I haven’t seen them or spoken to them since,” Whizzer breathed softly. There was such sorrow swimming in his brown irises. Marvin cupped his cheek gently and kissed him on the forehead.

“I-I don’t know why I agreed to lunch,” Whizzer’s voice was barely a whisper, “I don’t know why they are here, but… but I…”

“It’s okay hun, it’s okay,” Marvin soothed. After a beat he said, “Do you want me to come with you?”

Whizzer seemed to seriously consider this before saying, “No, thank you but no. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea.” 

Marvin nodded in understanding. The last thing he wanted to do would be to put Whizzer in a position that caused him more pain.

He tucked his arms around Whizzer again and held him close, feeling his heat and breath and heartbeat. Trying to convey love and comfort through the pressure of fingertips. Trying to absorb all of his hurt so that he would be free and happy again, like they were before that cursed phone range. Trying to give him all his strength and courage for what he was going to face tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

The cafe was a quaint, neat little place tucked away on the corner of a side street. It had a spray of floral decoration in the windows and the enticing aroma of brewing coffee wafted from the open doors. 

It was a familiar place for Whizzer, a safe place, a place where he hoped he could find some steadiness to get him through lunch.

The nervous clenching in his gut and the frantic pattering of his heart didn’t ease any when he spotted his parents through the window. He halted.

They looked the same. A little older maybe, a few more wrinkles around the eyes and greying hair but still the same. His mother in a polka-dot dress, the one he had seen her wear on many lavish occasion. His father in a tweed jacket and slacks, his usual attire for church.

Anger and hate, frustration and fear, confusion and that childish longing, that need for his parents, all thrumming through him at once. 

Whizzer could feel his pulse thundering under his skin. He could just not go in. He could just walk on past and get lunch from the sandwich bar further down the block. He could just-

His mother waved at him. 

Shit. 

He took a bated breath, sucked down the rising nausea and went into the cafe.

He forced himself to walk steadily to their table, trying to control his shaking hands.

His mother rose from her chair and approached him with a smile on her face. His father stayed put, expression unreadable.

“Whizzer, dear,” she tried to embrace him but Whizzer stood stock still and leaned away from her.

She made a noise of disappointment and his father rolled his eyes.

“You’ve grown tall, and handsome,” she tried, returning to perch on her chair.

Whizzer swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to form words as he sat down in the chair opposite them.

“Mom, Dad,” he managed, “How have you been?”

It was a polite question. In all honesty he didn’t care. There were many, many things he burned to ask, wanted to shout and scream and let out all of the pent up emotion, let them know how angry he was that they had turned up out of the blue and dug up his past like this.

He missed his mother’s reply. He didn’t care.

“Are you going to order anything?” she quirked her eyebrows at him.

“Not hungry,” all desire to eat had left him as soon as he had sat down.

His mother frowned at him but didn’t press the subject. 

“So… so what are you doing with yourself?” she sipped at her tea as if the tension between them wasn’t tainting the air.

“Photography. Little jobs here and there,” he heard himself say. He was busy watching his father. The man hadn’t said a word since he had sat down and Whizzer couldn’t help the way he squirmed under that steely glare. 

“A girlfriend?” his mother asked, setting down her cup again.

Whizzer blanched, hands balling into fists.

“Boyfriend?” his father’s lip curled in a sneer as he spat the question.

Whizzer’s heart skipped a beat. The seconds it took him to answer seemed almost like an eternity as his stomach churned and his brain went into overdrive. How do I answer? What will happen if I tell him the truth? How can I pretend to be anything other than who I am?

“Yes,” he choked, “Yes, we live together.”

His mother pursed her lips. His father’s hand came up. Whizzer flinched, fully expecting the sting of a smack as the hard hand connected with his face.

His father picked up his coffee, eyes glinting with the pleasure of knowing that Whizzer still feared him.

Whizzer was fighting the urge to be sick. He had told himself that he was going to be grounded and be an adult and not let this man terrorise him any more. But at the slightest threat of violence, he had reacted the same way he had when he was a child. 

Anger at himself bubbled in his chest and he forced himself to meet his father’s gaze. 

“How did you get my number?” his bluntness took his mother by surprise and she tried and failed to hide her contempt.

“Watch your tone,” his father growled, “We asked around. You fags are a tight community,” the sneer was back.

“So why am I here? What do you want?” Whizzer clenched his teeth, gripping the sides of his chair until his knuckles were white.

“Why would we want anything? Can’t we just come by and see our son?” Whizzer saw right through his mother’s forced smile. 

Anger clouded his judgement.

“Son? Son?” he snarled, “You don’t get to call me son,” any trace of fear or nerves had been replaced by rage, boiling his blood and fueling his courage, “You stopped being my mother the second you let him lay a finger on me.”

He was very aware of some of the other customers now watching him. He didn’t care. All he cared about now was bringing his father down a notch and wiping that stupid nonchalant expression off his stupid fucking face.

“Did you think you could waltz back into my life like nothing had happened and I would just pretend like the pair of you hadn’t rejected me because I’m gay?” he was on his feet now, shaking with tension, “It’s been years. YEARS. What the fuck do you want? Huh? Do you want money? Is that it? Oh I bet that’s it. You’ve come crawling back to me because you need money and-”

Whizzer’s vision swam and his ears rang with the sound of his father’s hand connecting with his cheek. The force of the blow snapped Whizzer’s head to the side and the immediate heat and sting radiated from his skin.

“How DARE you!” his father was in his face, fists balled into the lapel of his shirt. Whizzer was too stunned to try pulling away, “You filthy faggot. How dare you speak to us like that?”

Whizzer’s mother’s eyes were wide but she had seemed to resign herself to her chair and let her husband abuse her child. 

“You fucking queer. I should have beat it out of you long ago,” spittle hit Whizzer’s face as his father shook him, “Do you want to know why we got in contact? Your grandmother died and your mother had the sudden need to see you, to reconnect with family. But you, you ungrateful little shit, you’re not family. No family of mine is a fucking fag.”

“Let me go,” Whizzer tried to sound aggressive but his words came as more of a plea.

His father pushed him back so that he stumbled into his chair. Whizzer quickly regained his balance and stared down his father.

Before he had a chance to retaliate, a man in a suit marched over to the table, scowl etching his middle-aged features.

“Excuse me. I am the manager of this establishment and I must ask you to leave.”

Whizzer felt that little flutter of triumph as his father’s face fell. He was pretty sure that his father had never been kicked out anywhere before.

The manager seemed to read his expression and said, “Oh, no not you sir,” he turned to Whizzer with a look of complete disdain, “You. We don’t serve your kind here.”

Whizzer’s heart plummeted as he tried to process what was happening.

“But-but I,” he stammered, “I’ve been coming here for years and-and he hit me, you all saw,” he turned desperately to the onlooking customers, none of which rose to his defense, “He hit me and-and your kicking me out?” 

“We have a policy against gays,” the manager folded his arms.

Whizzer felt sick. His mother wouldn’t look at him. His father looked smug.

“Fine,” Whizzer resolved, a sudden lethargy taking over him, “Fine. I’ll go,” he pointed to his father, “I never want to see you,” he pointed to his mother, “Or her, ever again. I’m not going to let either of you ruin my life anymore than you all ready have. I’m done with the both of you and I’m done letting you get to me.”

He turned and with all the dignity he could muster, left the cafe. He didn’t stop to look back at his parent’s expressions. He didn’t stop to acknowledge the other customers. He didn’t stop to glare at the manager. He just left, and, finally, left that part of his life behind him, closed the door on it and just kept walking.

***

“You’re home early,” Marvin mused as Whizzer came through the door, “How was lunch?”

He put down his paper and sat openly, inviting his lover to join him on the couch.

Whizzer paused in the doorway before shuffling over to him.  
There was a strange expression on Whizzer’s face and his left cheek was bright red.

Marvin’s chest twisted in concern.

“Whiz? What happened?” Marvin rose to pull Whizzer into a tight embrace.

Whizzer felt numb. Not exactly free like he thought he would after deciding to completely cut himself off from his parents, but wrapped in Marvin’s warmth, he was starting to feel better.

“I love you Marvin,” he mumbled into Marvin’s shoulder.

“I love you too,” Marvin hummed back.

Whizzer felt tears pricking at his eyes and he tightened his grip around Marvin’s waist.

“Don’t let me go,” he whispered.

“Never,” Marvin buried his nose in Whizzer’s hair, holding him close.

“I won’t be seeing my parents again,” Whizzer breathed, voice wavering slightly.

Marvin pulled back so he could gaze at his boyfriend’s face.

“Okay,” he said, heart fluttering at the trust and love brimming in Whizzer’s eyes.

“I don’t need them. I never needed them,” Whizzer sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself and Marvin pulled him close again.

Whizzer let himself be guided to the couch and tried to lose himself in Marvin.

“Don’t need them,” Whizzer snuggled into Marvin’s side, “But I need you.”

Marvin smiled, stroking soothing circles into Whizzer’s back. Whizzer would tell him about what happened at lunch in his own time. He would bare his soul and Marvin had promised to protect it. But in his own time.

Marvin was pretty sure Whizzer had started to doze so he shuffled slightly so his arm wouldn't go to sleep and draped it over his lover’s shoulders. The emotional strain of the afternoon had obviously gotten to the younger man and Marvin let him sleep.

“You’re safe with me Whizzer,” he said softly, “You’re safe with me.”


End file.
